


Stay or Go

by Unforgotten



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Manipulation, Missing Scenes, Pre-Movie(s), unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 16:40:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13057983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforgotten/pseuds/Unforgotten
Summary: It's not so surprising, is it, that Hank and Charles end up sleeping together in those long lonely days after the closing of their school.





	Stay or Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [still_lycoris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [still_lycoris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris) in the [secret_mutant_madness_2017](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/secret_mutant_madness_2017) collection. 



In retrospect, it wasn't surprising, the first time it happened. With the last teacher and the last students long since gone, the mansion had become quite a lonely place. Charles told himself he didn't mind that. He told himself he preferred it that way. This was at least somewhat true, if not entirely, because the loneliness could be nearly as painful as its opposite. The real difference was that he could get to sleep in the quiet, the way he never could anymore in the midst of the noise.

Yes, Charles was lonely. And although he no longer had his telepathy to tell him so, he thought Hank must be, too. So it didn't surprise him the first time Hank stumbled into his room after midnight, more than a little drunk. It did surprise him, a little, that Hank was able to finish, as sloppy as he was (not to mention how long it had been since Charles had given anyone a hand job).

It surprised him more than that when Hank showed up in his room again the following week, just as drunk as he'd been the first time. Charles hadn't thought they'd be doing this again, not after the way Hank had reacted waking up in his room the first time. He hadn't been able to flee fast enough.

Then again, he'd also been sure, months ago, that Hank would soon be gone as well, along with all the teachers and students who had once walked these halls. He had the formula for the serum, the means to make it without a Charles-financed lab. What reason could there possibly be for him to stay, now that everything they'd worked to build was gone?

This time, he took Hank into his mouth; he'd always been better at that than anything else, and if Hank was going to stay, then Charles wanted to keep him coming back like this, the only real connection he was likely to have with another person in the near future.

It seemed to work. For the next few months, Hank showed up drunk in Charles' bedroom once or twice a week.

One day, they had a dreadful fight. Hank thought they'd done nothing for long enough; he wanted to try again. Charles thought that was the stupidest idea he'd ever heard, and said so. Try again? Why? So they could fail again? Well, Hank could forget it. It was Charles' house, not his, and it was not going to happen. If he didn't like it, he could leave.

"Maybe I will," Hank said toward the end of their row. He was blue around the edges when he stormed out of the room, back to the lab he practically lived in these days.

That night, the last thing Charles expected was for Hank to come to his room—but soon enough, his frame was filling the doorway, a little wider and a little hairier than he ought to have been. When he joined Charles under the covers, he was a great deal stronger then he'd been the other times, and he tossed Charles around the mattress like a rag doll. It was rough, nearly vicious, and Charles had never wished for his telepathy more than he did as he hung onto Hank's massive shoulders, blue fur sprouting in and out of his fists as Hank fucked him brutally.

In the morning, Hank looked stricken. (The first time, he'd just looked embarrassed; the other times, he'd nearly always been gone before Charles woke up.)

"It's all right," Charles said. "You had a little too much to drink. It happens."

Hank hadn't been drunk, and they both knew it. Charles knew something else, too: he ought to put a stop to it. Hank could have hurt him; if this kept up, Hank was _likely_ to hurt him. 

But even without his telepathy, he'd figured something out about all this. It wasn't sexual release that kept Hank coming back to him. It wasn't anything Charles did with his hands or his mouth or ass. It was frustration, that was all, and anger; resentment at the way they needed each other now, neither of them having anyone else. And it was very possible that the only thing keeping Hank here was guilt at the way he came to use Charles when he was drunk—and, now, when he was angry.

There was no part of Charles that was unaware that he was using Hank in his turn, but although he had his own guilt, he could live with it. He had to. Otherwise, he'd only end up really, truly alone.


End file.
